


II. Revelations

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drama, During Canon, Established Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-21
Updated: 2006-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-03 08:24:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8704948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Sequel to Betrayal.  Second in the Unveiling Series.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

REVELATIONS

By Shorts

 

“Damnit, Dean! Get your ass over here!” yelled John, his tone giving no room for disobedience.

 

Dean spun around, his heart caught in his throat. “Dad?” 

 

“What the hell have you been doing?” demanded John, backlit by the headlights of his truck.

 

Swallowing, Dean tried to take a step backward, but his legs refused to move. Except for the two of them, the roadside was deserted, quiet in hushed anticipation.

 

“I let you out of my sight and look what you’ve gotten yourself into,” said John, shaking his head.

 

“I didn’t . . . ,” started Dean, but couldn’t finish the sentence, unsure what it was he was supposed to say.

 

“Yes. You did,” said John, taking a predatory step forward and closing the distance between them. “And with Sammy, no less.”

 

Dean was frozen in place, eyes widening as John stopped directly in front of him. He shook his head at the dark wisps that flickered around his father.

 

“Ah, Dean,” sighed John. “You should have come to me, you know that.”

 

“I didn’t think . . . ,” stammered Dean.

 

“You never do, Dean,” smiled John, sadly. He reached out and cupped Dean’s jaw with his hand. “If I hadn’t left . . . but I did.”

 

“Why?” asked Dean, searching his father’s face.

 

“You know why,” said John. “If I had stayed, I would have ordered you into my bed. And you would have done it, too. That’s what draws me to you, your unquestioning loyalty to take orders.”

 

“No,” choked Dean. He took an aborted step back and jerked his face away from John’s icy touch.

 

John’s hand moved quickly, gripping the back of Dean’s neck and yanking him forward. Leaning close, he locked his gaze on his son’s mouth. “My concern was misplaced, considering you ran straight to your brother to fill your ass.”

 

“That’s not true,” denied Dean, but the words felt like ash in his mouth.

 

“You can’t lie to me,” frowned John. “There are no more secrets to hide away. It’s time to come clean. All of us.”

 

“I didn’t know,” trembled Dean, closing his eyes as dry, hard lips brushed against his own.

 

“Well, now you do,” smiled John, coldly. “The question is, what are you going to do about it?”

 

Like a puppet with his strings cut, Dean fell to his knees on the hard asphalt, head bowed before his father. The sound of a zipper sliding down was loud as he kept his eyes downcast.

 

 

“ _You have no idea how many times I dreamed of having your mouth around my cock_ ,” said John, his voice deep and rough, taking on the tenor of the demon.

 

Lifting his head, Dean looked up at his father as a strong hand curled behind his head and guided him forward.

 

“ _Let’s see just how talented you really are_ ,” husked John, urging Dean to part his lips.

 

The spongy head rubbed across his lips, leaving a wet trail. Darting his tongue out, Dean tasted the salty fluid and relaxed his jaw allowing the thick column to slip between his lips.

 

“ _I’m comin’ for you, Dean,_ ” said John, holding him in a vise grip as he jerked into his mouth. “ _In more ways than one._ ”

 

Dean felt trapped inside, unable to control his actions as he suckled his father. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. Not demanding. Not taking. The thought startled him, bringing forth the secret he had buried a long time ago.

 

Dean jolted awake, gasping and heart pounding. Morning light was muted through the heavy curtains as his eyes darted around the room. The table held an empty pizza box and cartons of half eaten Chinese food. Sam was sleeping in the chair beside him with his feet propped up on the edge of the bed. Two days ago they had landed here and Sam hadn’t left the room, or him, once. Dean moved to sit up and tried to suppress the grunt of pain that passed his lips from the pull on healing wounds on his body.

 

Sam jerked forward and reached out before he came fully awake. “Dean?”

 

Dean flinched back from the out stretched hand, causing another spike of pain to lance upward and across his back and chest.

 

“Shit,” muttered Sam, pulling his hand back. He had come to the conclusion that the demon had used their relationship against Dean and by the injuries he suffered, it wasn’t hard to imagine how. 

 

“I’m okay,” breathed Dean, as much to assure himself as Sam.

 

“What do you need?” asked Sam, in a mid crouch off the chair and ready to stand.

 

_For this never to have happened_ , thought Dean. Instead, he pushed off the covers and eased his legs over the side of the bed. “Just need to take a leak.”

 

“Oh.” Instinctively Sam started to reach out and help Dean to his feet, then caught himself, his whole body fighting against itself to do the right thing.

 

Dean would have laughed at the sight of Sam’s aborted movements twitching him back and forth, if it wasn’t so sad under the circumstances. “I’m good. The key is to take it slow.” The moment the words left his mouth, Dean paled. The key. _He_ was the key.

 

“You sure?” asked Sam, rising to his feet to give Dean room to pass.

 

“I’ve been able to piss without help longer than you’ve been around, Sam,” said Dean, brushing past him and twisting not to touch him despite the warning flare of pain from the awkward movement.

 

Snapping his mouth shut against the rejoinder that jumped to his lips, Sam watched Dean slowly make his way to the bathroom. “Well, holler if you need help anyway.”

 

Dean raised a hand in a mock wave as he disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door.

 

Sam had hoped Dean would eventually stop reacting to him. Too many times Dean would jerk awake and he would see the fear in his eyes for a split second, then relief when Dean realized that it was really him. A surge of anger rushed through him, mixed with helplessness at the thought that Dean couldn’t trust him.

 

Running a hand through his hair, Sam picked up his cell phone and stared at it. Their father had contacted him, saying he was on his way, but it would take a couple days to get here. That had been two days ago.

 

They had their differences in the past, but when the chips were down, John had always been there for them. It would take insurmountable circumstances to keep him away if they really needed him. Such as when Dean had been dying from the damage to his heart and John hadn’t appeared. It turned out that he had caught the short end in a fight and was battling for his life on his own death’s bed. Father Jim had been sworn not to call them and John hadn’t gotten Sam’s message about Dean until it was all over and done with. Dropping back down in the chair, Sam tried to work the crick out of his neck from two nights of dozing in the chair. He needed to be as close as possible to Dean for his own peace of mind, and since sleeping alongside him was out of the question, he opted for the chair that he could place beside him.

 

Dean braced himself with one hand on the wall over the toilet and relieved himself. Closing his eyes, he hung his head and tried to collect himself before going back out there and facing Sam. It wasn’t his brother’s fault, yet Sam was paying for it. 

 

Standing before the mirror, he ran his hand lightly over his chest, wincing as fingers brushed tender flesh. The ache in his nether region still flared if he moved wrong, or too quickly, but the initial discomfort had faded. Washing his hands, he looked in the mirror at his reflection. Intellectually, he knew the difference between the demon and his family, but right now he was running on emotion.

 

“Damn, but it fucked you over in more ways than one,” muttered Dean to his mirror image. He cupped his hands and filled them with water to try and clear away his lingering dream.

 

Blinking against the drops of water clinging to his eyelashes, he leaned heavily on the sink and studied his face. He searched for any sign of the guilt he was carrying that would betray him. He loved Sam. Maybe not in the most acceptable fashion, but he did. The problem was, he felt the same way about his dad, which he had never allowed himself to think about too closely. At least not until the truth had been dragged out of him kicking and screaming into the harsh light of reality.

 

If the demon knew about that, even when he had never acknowledged it honestly to himself, then what else had the demon been right about?

 

A firm knock sounded on the door, causing Sam to jump and almost drop his phone. He chided himself that evil doesn’t necessarily knock before attacking, but he still stepped to the window and carefully pulled back the edge of the curtain. He grabbed for the door in one quick stride and yanked it open.

 

“Where is he?” asked John, walking into the room as Sam stepped to the side to let him pass. He scanned the room before turning his attention back to his son. He quickly noted the protective salt and other items scattered around the room.

 

“Bathroom,” answered Sam, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders at the sight of their father.

 

“I know you gave me an outline of what happened, but how bad is it?” asked John. He pinned his younger son with a steel hardened gaze, trying to keep the two days of hard driving and even harder worrying behind a mask.

 

“It’s bad, Dad,” swallowed Sam. He felt immense relief that John was here, but at the same time, a strong trepidation, almost a premonition, that his and Dean’s secret wouldn’t be a secret for much longer. Not with the way Dean reacted around him. He brushed his bangs back and rubbed his chin before crossing his arms.

 

“And he hasn’t told you everything, has he?” stated John, already knowing the answer. He could read Sam. The edgy fidgeting with his hair and face was a sure sign that he had questions that weren’t being answered.

 

Sam shook his head. “Physically, that demon did everything short of killing him. Somehow it got to Dean emotionally and he isn’t talking.” He took a deep, shuddering breath and released it, unable to prevent the hitching of his chest.

 

“We all have our weaknesses, Sam. You and I both know Dean’s,” said John, pulling Sam close by the scruff of his neck and giving him a hug. He could feel the tension vibrating through him.

 

“Yeah,” said Sam, returning John’s hug. “Us.” He stepped back, turning partially to rub away the wetness that filled his eyes.

 

Dean exited the bathroom, holding on to the door jamb to steady himself. He froze when he saw John standing just inside the room. “Dad?” He felt the blood drain from his face and darkness tinge the edges of his vision.

 

“Dean,” said John, dropping his duffel bag onto the floor. He saw Dean’s legs start to buckle and was one step ahead of Sam, barely catching Dean before he hit the floor.

 

Between them, they maneuvered Dean’s limp form toward the bed, each taking a position on either side. The discolored bruises, cuts and partially healed bites covered Dean’s front and back as they eased him onto the bed. John clenched his teeth together at the evidence of his son’s suffering as he knelt on the floor beside the bed to examine his injuries.

 

“How is he healing?” asked John, his voice low, but sharp. The bites looked vicious and the deep bruising was still coming out, mottling Dean’s fair skin.

 

“The cuts and bites are better, but he won’t let me check . . . his other injuries,” whispered Sam, kneeling on the bed on the other side of Dean. “Not since I got him out of there and cleaned up.” He caught the glint in his father’s eyes as John lightly ran his hand over Dean’s abused flesh. A shiver ran down his spine at the glimmer of raw rage held in check behind eyes identical to Dean’s.

 

“It’s that damn stubborn streak running through him,” sighed John, his eyes flickering uncontrollably downward to the injuries he couldn’t see hidden under soft cotton, before moving back up.

 

“It’s not just that,” said Sam. “He flinches if I get too close, and some of those injuries need to be checked.” He figured it was best to prepare John for Dean’s reaction to him, before it happened.

 

“And taking him to a hospital is not the top option,” finished John, nodding. “No way to explain his condition without getting the police involved. But if he’s unable, or unwilling, to let either of us deal with treating him, he’s to see a doctor and we’ll deal with the consequences later.” 

 

Blinking, Dean opened his eyes and found John and Sam hovering directly over him. For a split second, he was back in the abandoned church and started to scramble against the headboard, adrenaline masking the pain as he tried to escape.

 

“Whoa,” said John, rising from his crouch and reaching out to calm Dean.

 

Eyes locked on John’s hands, Dean cringed, pressing harder against the wooden headboard.

 

Sam frowned, looking hard at John. It seemed whatever the reason for Dean’s reaction, it also included their father.

 

Backing off, John snagged the chair that Sam had been sitting in earlier. “It’s okay, Dean. You’re safe.”

 

“It’s really you,” choked Dean, darting a quick glance at Sam. “Both of you.”

 

“Yeah,” said Sam, his eyes filled with sorrow for his brother.

 

Dean forced himself to ease back down on the bed. “For a moment . . . I wasn’t sure. I thought . . . never mind.” He hadn’t meant to make that admission out loud and hugged himself tight. “I’m fine.”

 

John and Sam exchanged a look.

 

“Sam, why don’t you go out and pick us up something to eat?” suggested John, his attention turning back to Dean.

 

“I don’t know if I should . . .,” started Sam.

 

“Go,” interrupted John.

 

Sam hesitated. He felt torn about leaving, despite the fact John could protect Dean as well as he could right now. Worrying his bottom lip, he looked questioningly at Dean.

 

Dean glanced at him with a barely noticeable nod before he shifted his gaze back down to his lap. The last thing he needed was Sam and John fighting. 

 

Reluctantly, Sam eased off the bed and picked up the car keys. Pausing at the door, he looked past their father and at Dean. “I’ll be right back.” He didn’t know if John would have any better luck with Dean than he did, but he could hope.

 

The quiet click of the door closing sounded loud to Dean’s ears and he was strongly aware of John’s presence. Pulling himself together, he forced himself to look directly at him.

 

John leaned forward, elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together to present an unthreatening position as possible. “You look like hell.”

 

“I’m just banged up a bit,” said Dean, sitting up straighter. “I’ll be good as new in no time.”

 

“That’s bullshit,” said John, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve only seen you pass out once before, and that was when you took a hit from a poltergeist that damn near killed you.”

 

“I just moved too fast,” said Dean. “That’s all.”

 

“Uh huh. So how do you explain practically crawling up the wall when you came to?” pressed John, wanting to get the feel of how closed off his oldest son was in revealing what was going on with him.

 

“Didn’t expect to see the two of you hovering directly over me,” snapped Dean, his forehead creasing at the admission. His heart was hammering in his chest, but it was better than the truth.

 

“You never could lie to me, Dean,” said John, his mouth set. “And you’re lying right now.”

 

The similarity to his dream washed over him and Dean started to shake his head in denial, but the move was aborted by the stern look from John. He lowered his eyes instead, unable to maintain John’s steady gaze.

 

“You’ve got to talk to me, Dean. Or I can’t help you and neither can Sam,” said John.

 

Avoiding eye contact, Dean ducked his head further.

 

John let out a sigh at Dean’s silence, determined to try and keep him talking. “Sam tells me you’re avoiding him and not letting him check your injuries.” 

 

“I told you, I’m fine,” said Dean, allowing his irritation to come through. “Nothing that won’t heal.”

 

“They still need to be checked,” pressed John. “Either by Sam or me, or your ass will be hauled to the nearest hospital if that’s the only way to make sure you’re okay.”

 

“No hospital,” stated Dean, crossing his arms. The mere thought of having to explain his condition to strangers made him cold.

 

“Fine,” said John. “But I need to know whether you need more professional care than Sam and I can provide, and if you don’t want Sam to do it, then I will.”

 

Dean shifted uncomfortably at the idea of either of them touching him so intimately under the circumstances.

 

John studied him, trying to decide how best to draw him out. The dark circles beneath his eyes against the pale, drawn features spoke louder than words. No better place than to start at the beginning of this ordeal. “Sam told me about your nightmares.”

 

Dean huffed a breath of air and looked down at his injuries, before looking back at John. “Is it any wonder? They’ll pass.”

 

“I’m talking about the ones _before_ any of this happened,” clarified John, glad to see a spark of Dean’s sarcastic temperament peek through.

 

“I thought that was all they were,” shrugged Dean, struggling to keep his voice steady. “I didn’t know it was a demon setting me up.”

 

“How could you?” asked John, tilting his head slightly. “Not all evil is obvious when it strikes. There must be a reason why it singled you out. Any clue as to why?”

 

Dean opened his mouth and then closed it. He couldn’t answer without revealing everything.

 

“You’re keeping us in the dark,” said John, his tone firm but calm. “And that’s dangerous. For all of us.”

 

“Some things are best kept hidden,” said Dean. He wasn’t sure he was ready to talk about any of this, but when it came to his father . . . . 

 

“Please, Dean,” said John, placing his hand lightly over Dean’s. He only spoke this gently to his boys, and then only when they were hurting and by god, Dean was hurting to his very core. Patiently he waited while Dean struggled with his inner demons.

 

“It . . . ,” Dean tried to lick his lips, but his mouth had gone dry as he stared at John’s hand resting on his. “It wanted to use me against both of you.”

 

“How?” asked John, his brow furrowing. That might explain Dean’s reaction to him and Sam, especially if Dean was fighting an internal struggle not to strike at them.

 

“By destroying us as a family,” said Dean, his voice low.

 

“It could have done that easily by taking you away from us,” said John. “I’m thankful it didn’t.”

 

Dean shook his head, his hand clenching into a fist beneath John’s hand. “My death would have only made the two of you stronger, more deadly.”

 

John nodded his head. “But by all accounts, Sam dealt with it. And we didn’t lose you.”

 

“Alive or dead, it wanted me out of the equation,” said Dean. “For some reason it thought I was the . . . that I was the weak link”

 

John knew that Dean wasn’t being completely truthful. He was a realist when it came to his boys and his relationship with them. “I’m not blind, Dean. You are the very reason this family hasn’t completely shattered. Sam and I, well, we don’t exactly see eye to eye on most things and you do have a way of keeping the peace. I’d say you’re like the keystone of an arch, without you our family dynamics would collapse.”

 

“And now I’m going to be the reason that tears this family apart,” mumbled Dean.

 

“Not going to happen,” said John with conviction, taken back by the crushed attitude of his oldest. “I won’t let it.”

 

“You can’t stop it,” argued Dean. A flare of anger flashed through him, frustrated that John was arrogant enough to believe any of them could prevent this.

 

“I can if I know what I’m up against,” said John, his tone hardening at Dean’s obvious defeated demeanor. “I need to know, Dean, and keeping this secret isn’t helping.”

 

“But that is exactly what is going to destroy us,” said Dean, with conviction.

 

“What will?” asked John.

 

“Secrets,” answered Dean. “Secrets we’ve kept from each other. The three of us. Secrets that could destroy everything between us.” The moment the words left his mouth, he knew he had said too much.

 

“You said secrets we _kept_ ,” said John, his eyes narrowing, catching the past tense. “I gather you know what these secrets are supposed to be?”

 

Reluctantly, Dean nodded.

 

“Then they’re not really secrets anymore, are they?” pointed out John. “You should know there is nothing, and I mean _nothing_ , that would make me turn my back on you boys. And I’d like to think that our family is a helluva lot stronger than lies and innuendos.”

 

Dean could only clench his teeth together against the words that wanted to spill out, afraid he would prove him wrong.

 

John tightened his hand over Dean’s clenched fist. “Tell me.” He underlined his words with a firmness that belied any attempt by Dean to disobey him in the past. 

 

“I can’t!” pleaded Dean.

 

“Why are you taking the word of a demon, Dean?’ demanded John. “You know they twist the truth, or hell, more often than not, out and out lie.”

 

“Because it knew my secrets!” shouted Dean, wanting nothing more than to escape from John, Sam . . . everything. “The son of a bitch knew us and it used it all against me!”

 

Finally getting Dean to show some emotion other than defeat, even if it was anger, John gave a faint nod. “I see. So, you either shoulder this burden alone, which is causing you to pull away from us, and we lose you and the demon wins. Or you tell me what happened and we get through this.”

 

Dean stiffened, finding himself trapped. He needed to separate the truth from the lies, then maybe he would be able to get past his reflex reactions to Sam and John. “Why did you leave?”

 

“What do you mean?” asked John, confused by the unexpected question.

 

“You left me,” said Dean. “Without warning, you just up and decide to leave me behind. Why?”

 

John’s shoulders dropped and he hesitated before answering. But he knew if he wanted Dean to talk to him, he had to meet him part way. “Because it was safer for you.”

 

“Safer?” scoffed Dean. “How can being separated be safer than being together?”

 

“What are you leading up to, Dean?” countered John.

 

“You want me to be honest,” said Dean, needing to know if the demon was right. “Then you have to be honest, too.”

 

John waited.

 

“How do you feel about me?” asked Dean. “I mean, really feel about me?”

 

“I love you,” immediately answered John. “I wouldn’t think you’d ever doubt that.”

 

“Yeah, but how?” asked Dean.

 

“What do you mean, how?” questioned John, his brow furrowing. “You’re my son, I’d die for you.”

 

“There are many ways to love someone,” swallowed Dean. He knew in his heart, John was right. To try and lock this away would eventually tear him apart and in the end the demon would win. But to reveal such truths could be just as destructive.

 

“I’m not sure exactly what you’re getting at Dean,” said John, all expression leaving his face.

 

Hating the way John always closed up like this, Dean lashed out, all caution gone in the heat of emotion. “It’s simple. How do you see me when you imagine me in your bed? Do you want me as a lover or as a whore? Is that why you left me? Because you wanted to _fuck me_?!” The words tumbled out, taking on a life of their own and Dean was helpless to stop them.

 

John’s face paled and his breath locked in his lungs. “That’s enough, Dean.” He had his suspicions, and Dean just confirmed them as to how he had been used against him by the demon.

 

Dean’s breathing hitched, terrified of his father’s reaction one way or the other, but there was no turning back now. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

 

“Dean, you’re taking what the demon did to you and placing it on me. I could never hurt you the way it did. I would never have done this to you, not like that,” said John, indicating Dean’s injuries. The room suddenly felt devoid of oxygen and he cradled his forehead in his hand. He rubbed the tension building in his temples roughly before turning his attention back to Dean.

 

“No, you wouldn’t,” agreed Dean, hearing the truth between the lines and bracing himself to push further. “No more than Sam would hurt me . . . like this.” He skated his hands over his abused flesh, aware of John’s unwavering gaze. For the first time he saw the way John looked at him and wondered why he had never seen it before. His heart pounded at what he was about to reveal.

 

John watched the movement of Dean’s hand as it trailed over the evidence of the demon’s torture and down toward the elastic band that circled his waist.

 

“This was nothing more than a means to inflict pain and humiliation,” continued Dean, his voice deep and hoarse as he forced the words past his constricted throat. “Not what you would have done . . . and Sam would never do when we sleep together.”

 

John jerked his attention away from Dean’s hand that had come to rest low on his stomach. “You and Sam?” 

 

The shocked look on John’s face caused Dean’s stomach to drop. Realization that the demon had lied about John knowing about them struck him. “You didn’t know. It told me you did . . . that was why you and Sam fight . . . .” If the demon had lied about John knowing, then just what was the truth and what was not?

 

John faintly shook his head, trying to get a handle on the implications. The admission of his sons intimacy together blind sided him and his mind reeled. He struggled with the reality of the relationship between his boys and stopped short as Dean’s words about his and Sam’s fighting. “No.”

 

“Oh, fuck.” Dean frantically looked toward the door, desperate to find an escape.

 

Sensing Dean’s intentions, John moved quickly, rising up from his chair and snagging Dean by the shoulders to keep him from bolting. Adjusting his angle, he tried to ease his weight off of Dean as much as possible and still maintain a firm hold on him. “I take it you mean the two of you indulge in more than just sleeping.”

 

Dean grimaced as John pinned him into the mattress and he struggled to free himself.

 

“Dean!” hissed John, afraid he would cause him more damage. “Stop! Just . . . stop.”

 

Dean froze, his eyes squeezed tightly shut against the renewed pain from the exertion and to avoid looking at John.

 

“That explains a lot,” said John, changing his hold into a bear hug. “It used your relationship with Sam.” He couldn’t stop the vision that refused to vanish at the thought of Dean and Sam together and god help him, he felt himself responding to it.

 

“And ours,” whispered Dean. He trembled from fear, and from pain, that wracked him.

 

“Ours?” John frowned, his mouth a hard line. He almost released Dean, instinctively wanting to put as much distance as he could between them.

 

“That’s why you left, because I should have been with you,” said Dean, figuring he had nothing left to lose. If he was wrong, he couldn’t cause any more damage than he already had.

 

“That’s not true,” murmured John, closing his eyes against the lie it was now his turn to tell.

 

“I would be in your bed if you had stayed.” Dean could feel his father tighten his hold around him. He stilled his struggles as the fight bled out of him.

 

“Do you really believe I would do that?” asked John, his face gone ashen. Dean had been right. There were some secrets that shouldn’t be told. How screwed up could their family get? He gently released Dean, hoping he wouldn’t try to bolt, but more importantly needing to put space between them.

 

Dean held perfectly still as John moved back to the chair beside the bed. He kept expecting John to walk away, to leave him for good this time. 

 

“As for you and Sam . . . ,” started John, but stopped when the door opened.

 

“Sorry I took so long,” said Sam, entering the room. He made sure the door was secure and that he hadn’t broken the line of salt on the floor before turning around. He saw John and Dean and stopped, feeling the tension thick in the air.

 

John looked up at Sam standing beside the small table and saw him with different eyes. It was true, he and Sam had a difficult relationship, but surely it didn’t stem from them competing for Dean. Such an emotion had no place here, not between them and definitely not over Dean. After all, they were family.

 

Dean looked back and forth between John and Sam, certain that he had fulfilled the demon’s purpose.

 

“Is everything okay?” Sam asked cautiously, setting down the containers from a diner down the road.

 

“It will be,” answered John, rising from the chair and moving toward the door.

 

“Where are you going?” asked Sam, glancing quickly at Dean before moving to intercept John.

 

“Take care of your brother,” said John, reaching around Sam for the door handle. “If he gives you any trouble, take him to a hospital.”

 

Sam stood speechless, wondering what the hell had happened while he had been gone.

 

“You’re leaving again, aren’t you?” Dean felt the pit of his stomach drop.

 

“No,” said John, despite the strong urge to do just that. “I just need time to think and to put things into perspective.” 

 

“Wait.” Sam placed his hand on the door, preventing John from opening it. “Then when are you coming back?”

 

John glanced over his shoulder and saw the stricken look on Dean’s face. “I’ll be back by tonight.” 

 

“Will you?” asked Dean, the lump in his throat threatened to strangle him.

 

“I promise you I’ll be back,” said John. He knocked Sam’s arm down and pulled open the door, slipping out into the bright daylight.

 

Sam stared at the closed door for a moment, before turning to Dean. He wanted to ask him what the hell happened, but refrained. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah,” answered Dean, his voice rough. “I’m going to take a shower.”

 

Sam watched as Dean made his way to the bathroom and shut the door. Yanking the motel room door open, he took long strides toward John’s truck, determined to find out just what the hell happened while he had been gone.

 

John had just climbed behind the wheel and turned the ignition when Sam gripped the truck door, preventing him from closing it. A flash of anger swept over him at the sight of his younger son. “What the hell are you doing out here? You shouldn’t leave Dean alone.”

 

“This won’t take long,” said Sam, leveling a gaze at his father.

 

“How long did it take for the demon to snatch him before?” countered John. He battled the wave of jealousy that threatened to drown him.

 

Sam stiffened, but held his ground. “What did Dean say?”

 

“He pretty much confirmed what you, and I, suspected,” answered John, matching Sam’s gaze with his own. “What had been done to Dean was done by us. At least that’s who Dean saw.”

 

Sam’s lips were pressed into a thin line. “Neither of us would have hurt him like that and Dean knows it.”

 

“Maybe,” conceded John. “But it’s pretty hard to separate truth from lies when the lies have a truth to draw on.”

 

Frowning, Sam’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

 

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answers to, Sam,” answered John, his tone hard.

 

“So you’re just taking off? How are we going to fix this?” challenged Sam, automatically shoving the guilt back at John and swallowing against the lump lodged in his throat.

 

“You start with the relationship you have with your brother,” snapped John, yanking the truck door free from Sam’s grasp. Slamming the truck door, he drove out of the parking lot, scattering gravel.

 

Running a hand through his hair, Sam watched the truck tear down the road before turning back to the hotel room. The sound of the shower had him moving toward the closed door and lightly knocking. 

 

Standing beneath the extremely hot, steaming water, Dean clenched his teeth against the burn and sting as his skin turned red. He had sworn never to reveal what he knew, and what did he do? He spilled it to John. Sam was going to kill him when he found out. 

 

“Dean?” called Sam through the closed door. He waited, but Dean didn’t answer. Reaching down, he tried the door handle and pushed the door open. Dean’s shadowed silhouette through the shower curtain reassured him that Dean hadn’t disappeared.

 

Yanking back the curtain, Dean stood stiffly under the water. “What is it, Sam?” He forced his grip to loosen on the plastic curtain and slapped the water off.

 

“Just checking to see if you need anything,” lamely answered Sam, suddenly feeling awkward as Dean grabbed a towel and quickly wrapped it around his hips.

 

Dean didn’t doubt his father’s threat to haul him to a hospital, even if he didn’t need it. Picking up the tube of antiseptic ointment by the sink, he took a deep breath and tossed it toward Sam.

 

Surprised, Sam almost dropped it and looked questioningly at Dean.

 

“I’d rather have you than some stranger,” explained Dean, tension radiating from him as he moved past Sam. If he was going to do this, it would be better not to think too much on it.

 

Sam swallowed and nodded, following him. He waited as Dean settled face down on the bed before carefully moving to sit beside him.

 

Dean tensed as the mattress dipped from Sam’s weight. Clenching his hands into fists, he turned his face away and waited.

 

Slowly, Sam loosened Dean’s towel and paused. “I won’t hurt you, you know that.”

 

“I know,” said Dean, forcing the words out. He squeezed his eyes shut as Sam slipped the towel from around his waist. A wave of vulnerability gripped him and he swallowed, hating the alien feeling that was starting to become too familiar. His shoulders hunched as a warm hand palmed the curve of his cheek and gently exposed his center.

 

Licking his lips, Sam frowned at the mottled bruising along Dean’s hips. The realization that the marks matched perfectly with his long fingered hands, unnerved him. “You’re still pretty bruised.” Lightly he caressed the abused flesh, wishing to banish the hurt and pain.

 

“Doesn’t hurt like it did,” said Dean, struggling not to jerk away.

 

“You’re healing,” said Sam, tentatively using the tip of his finger to check the fragile skin puckering around Dean’s opening. Satisfied the small tears had healed with no adverse effects, he applied some of the antibiotic ointment to ease his probing.

 

The air caught in Dean’s lungs at the sensation of the cool wetness, bringing back a mixture of good and bad memories.

 

“Dean?” Sam hesitated, using his other hand to work out the kinks in Dean’s shoulders and back.

 

“Just do it,” ground out Dean, balling his hands into fists.

 

Taking a deep breath, Sam carefully slipped his finger inside, pausing to give Dean a chance to adjust to the intrusion. Velvet heat contracted, resisting his presence.

 

Dean sucked in a hissing breath, tensing against the tremors as nerve endings reacted to the familiar touch. He half expected the next sensation to be forcibly stretched, but instead a warm hand soothed the small of his back in gentle circles.

 

“Am I hurting you?” asked Sam, his voice on the border of cracking with concern.

 

Unable to voice his answer, Dean shook his head, forcing himself to relax.

 

The constriction eased and Sam tentatively probed and checked the soft walls. To his relief, he found no indication of infection. There was no radiating heat or swelling. He continued to check carefully, wanting to assure himself that Dean was healing with no complications.

 

A gasp escaped Dean as Sam brushed over his prostate, causing him to twitch. Inside he warred against the memories that wanted to intrude and twist this reality. He forced himself to acknowledge the difference of this touch and the demon’s with Sam’s face. 

 

“Sorry,” said Sam, biting his lip. 

 

Dean realized Sam was withdrawing and in that split second knew if he was going to get past the point of confusing Sam with the demon, he needed to push the issue. “Wait.”

 

“Dean?” Sam froze, uncertain.

 

“Talk to me,” hitched Dean.

 

“What?” Sam tilted his head, trying to understand what Dean needed from him.

 

“Let me know it’s you,” said Dean, forcing the words and barely achieving a loud whisper. “I need to know it’s you and not . . . help me remember us.”

 

“Dean, are you sure?” asked Sam. He couldn’t help the hope that washed over him and he forced himself to keep completely still.

 

“Yeah,” answered Dean. “Otherwise, I’ll never be able to separate memories and reality.”

 

Shifting, Sam eased alongside Dean, moving carefully until he was stretched out beside him. Leaning close, he whispered in Dean’s ear while he worked his finger back inside. “I would never hurt you, Dean.”

 

Dean took a deep breath and let out a shuddering sigh and turned his head to face his brother, needing to see as well as hear him.

 

“All I ever wanted was to love you,” said Sam, gently searching for the small bump. He knew the moment he found it.

 

Pleasure sparked through Dean and his burgeoning erection had him shifting his hips. “Sam . . . .”

 

“I’m right here,” said Sam, slowly closing the distance and hovering just short of touching his lips to Dean’s mouth.

 

The steady slide over his prostate sent shivers through Dean and he lightly pressed his lips against Sam’s in a chaste kiss. Ignoring the protest of abused flesh, he wiggled onto his side, facing Sam and slipping his arms around him.

 

“I was so scared when I thought I had lost you,” said Sam, resting their foreheads together. He scooted closer, maintaining his touch inside Dean. Wiggling his other hand between them, he trailed a path down Dean’s chest and along his hip, pausing for permission before taking Dean in hand.

 

Twitching his hips forward, Dean arched his neck, exposing his throat as the dual sensations swept him away. The moment his eyes closed he was transported back to the abandoned church and his entire body hitched. His eyes flew open, zeroing in on Sam.

 

“It’s okay,” soothed Sam, seeing the fear in Dean’s eyes. “It’s me. Only me.” He could feel the small, healing marks along Dean’s length and kept his grip light as he slowly stroked him from root to tip.

 

Keeping his gaze locked with Sam, Dean allowed himself to feel. The slow build up infused his entire system. Where his climax lacked in intensity, it more than made up for in taking the first step toward healing.

 

“I got you,” said Sam, assuring his touches were gentle, but firm enough to carry Dean over. The slickness coating his fist was accompanied by contractions around his finger as he continued to lightly brush over Dean’s sweet spot.

 

Dean’s body ached, but it was a discomfort that he welcomed.

 

Snagging the discarded towel, Sam cleaned Dean, erasing the evidence of what they had just done.

 

“Dad knows,” said Dean, unable to look directly at Sam.

 

“I’m just glad you were able to talk about it with him at least,” said Sam, forcing a smile and squashing the flare of resentment that Dean would confide in John and not him.

 

“I told him about us,” said Dean, clarifying what he meant.

 

Sam frowned, not sure he understood. “What?”

 

“About our . . . relationship,” said Dean, bracing for Sam’s reaction.

 

“You tol. . . why?” stammered Sam, then held up a hand. “Scratch that. I know why.” He collapsed onto his back and hid his face in his hands. “It all ties in to what happened 

to you. It also explains why he reacted to me the way he did. I’m surprised he hadn’t decked me.”

 

Dean knew he had to tell Sam. It was only fair, even at the risk of losing what he and Sam had together.

 

Covering his mouth with his hand, Sam gazed at the ceiling, his sight unfocused on anything in particular. “You had to. How else could you explain what happened with the demon? Part of me knew that it had used our relationship to get to you, I just didn’t want to believe it.” His stomach clenched at the knowledge that John knew about them.

 

“Sam,” said Dean, needing to stop the guilt trip that Sam was weaving around himself as a shroud. “That demon knew _our_ secrets. Yours. Mine. _Dad’s_. The ones we share and the ones that we don’t.”

 

“Somehow I can’t see Dad’s secrets being like this,” said Sam, rubbing his hands over his face.

 

“You’d be surprised,” said Dean. Having revealed their secret, it was only fair to even the playing field and take the same chance with Sam as he had with John.

 

Sam looked questioningly at him, wondering how he got lost in the conversation. His mind was still trying to come to terms with their father knowing about the physical aspect of their relationship.

 

“He never acted upon it, so it never became an issue” hedged Dean. “He left before it could.”

 

“What are you saying, Dean? That Dad’s into incest, too? Hell, why not? Might as well keep it in the family,” said Sam with disbelief. Dean’s silence had him taking a mental step back. “Fuck.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

*** 

 

John pulled off the road and sat there, staring out the windshield without really seeing. His instinct told him to keep driving and not turn back. With the knowledge about his sons he wasn’t sure he could ever look them in the eyes again. The ghost of his own feelings would distort everything, causing him to imagine and wonder that which no father should ever contemplate about his children.

 

Leaning forward, he rested his forehead on his hands gripping the steering wheel. The only thing stopping him from just going was the promise he made to Dean. Behind closed eyes, his mind insisted on conjuring inappropriate images that had no place, and no right, to exist.

 

Slowly he lifted his head and rubbed a hand hard over his face. He had hoped putting distance between them would put an end to such illicit yearnings, but instead time and distance had merely strengthened his desire for Dean. 

 

How could he accept such a relationship between his sons without it justifying his own feelings? No matter how you looked at it, it wasn’t right. Sam had what he had always denied himself. A wave of jealousy washed over him and he struggled to crush it. Such an emotion had no place between them. Dean wasn’t a prize to compete over. His love for his younger son was no less, just different, and he would not become a rival to his own flesh and blood.

 

There was only one solution. He couldn’t stay. The lure to love Dean in such a manner would be too tempting, especially with the knowledge that Dean wouldn’t turn him away. The only course open was to disappear, to cut himself off from those that were both his strength and his weakness. His sons.

 

“ _It’s over_.” Each word dripped with menacing delight, followed by laughter.

 

John jumped, whipping around to find the source of the voice. He was alone inside his truck. The small hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up and chills trailed down his spine. He gasped at the sinister foreboding that threatened to smother him.

 

“ _It’s too late. He will forever be mine_.”

 

“Sam destroyed you,” muttered John, believing it was his own thoughts taunting him.

 

“ _Is that what he told you? He must have forgotten to mention his little exchange with Sandy. Such a willing vessel. Then again, I have many such as her to command_.”

 

Fury replaced the fear that had gripped him and John clenched the steering wheel until his knuckles were white.

 

“ _If you go back, you will finish destroying him. You leave, he might recover, but then again, he has lost you forever. Either way, I win_.”

 

“You haven’t won anything,” ground out John. “Except maybe a one way ticket back to hell.”

 

Without warning, visions flickered, blocking out the real world. John’s breath caught at the sight of Dean beneath Sam. Sam’s sinuous movement left no doubt as to what they were doing. In an instant, he was in Sam’s place, reaping the reward of being the one responsible for Dean’s ecstasy. With an effort he tried to push away the sensation as he stared down into Dean’s blissful face. 

 

“ _Dad_ ,” breathed Dean, arching his head back as he came.

 

John grunted in surprise as he was milked by soft heat and his hips snapped sharply forward.

 

Dean opened his eyes and smiled up at him. “ _You want me? You’ll have to take me from Sam_.” Dark smoky trails snaked their way around them, sliding up and over John’s body.

 

John tried to break free, but he was caught in Dean’s embrace. Gasping as willing flesh undulated against him, he stared as Dean changed until it was Sam beneath him.

 

“ _Why not just make it a family affair_?” asked Sam with a sneer. “ _Better yet, just go away_.”

 

The passing of a speeding car brought him back to the fact he was parked along the shoulder. “You son of a bitch.” Willing his throbbing erection down, he sucked in air to steady his pounding heart. Slamming the truck into drive, he peeled back onto the highway.


End file.
